Possession
by cheela07
Summary: He comes when he needs me. But he always leaves. Every single time. What about my need for him? What about my love? What about my obsession? WON the 'CHERRY POPPER' Award in the Obsession Contest.THIS IS ONLY THE ONE SHOT,NOT THE FULL STORY.


This is the original O/S 'Fumbling Towards Ecstasy'. The title has been changed as FTE has now been extended and is on my profile, under the former name.

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. What I do own is a huge poster of Robert Pattinson and the plot of this particular one shot. Please do not use without my permission. Fumbling Towards Ecstasy is fictional; anything reflecting true events is coincidental only. I do not condone any of the behavior or content that may be in this one shot.

OOC, AH, ADULT THEMED. If you are not over the age of eighteen please do not read this story.

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**Chapter 1: Possession:**

_And I would be the one to hold you down;_

_Kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away_

_And after, I'd wipe away the tears,_

_Just close your eyes dear_

**Possession – Sarah McLachlan

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_2:00 a.m._

Another day is beginning. The night is passing by. Night-the only time I can rest in solitude. The emptiness will engulf me then.

Night. The only time memories don't haunt me. The voices don't shout at me.

I fall asleep, being careful not to touch the man sleeping beside me. I will wake up in a few hours anyway. I always do.

The green glow of the digital clock highlights the time.

_5: 25 a.m. _

Five minutes till he will wake up. Five minutes till he will yawn and stretch and groan as the weariness will hit him with full force again. Five minutes till he will open his eyelids and look around and observe his surroundings as if he is doing it for the first time. Five minutes till he will transfer his scorching gaze onto me and look deep into my eyes with those emerald orbs of his. Five minutes till the events of the previous night will rush back and cloud over his senses. Five minutes till the guilt and disbelief will set in and register in his eyes.

Five minutes till he will leave me once again.

Correction. Make that four minutes.

I try not to will time to stop. I try not to concentrate on the passing seconds. Instead, I divert all my attention to _him _- the still sleeping figure on the right side of the bed.

I notice how his eyes dance behind his eyelids. I see the even rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. I observe as his pink lips turn into a frown – unwilling to wake up in a few minutes, maybe? I always wonder what he is thinking about right before he wakes up. Is it about me? About _us_? Or is it about something altogether unrelated? This particular question always plagues me.

_5: 27 a.m._

I think about the night before. He has definitely learned some new moves. He was rougher this time, more animalistic. I shiver as I remember the feel of his body pressing roughly against mine; the sting of his stubble against my neck and cheeks. My insides grow warm just thinking about it. Butterflies swirl around in my stomach. _So many_ butterflies.

And all this while he sleeps unaware-albeit restlessly- beside me.

_5:29 a.m. _

I am shamelessly staring at his face now. Waiting for him to wake up. He always gets up precisely at 5 30 a.m. He is a creature of habit in a way.

_30 seconds. _

I try to enjoy the remaining seconds of pure bliss.

My heart pounds a steady rhythm of_ I love you. I love you. I love you. So much._

And then the devil alarm rings loud and clear.

And it's time to face reality.

He wakes up as disoriented and groggy as always. He follows his routine. Yawns, stretches and groans. His eyes flit around the room. And then land on me.

As always, he looks straight into my eyes.

And my eyes are trying to tell him how much I love him.

His gaze doesn't waver. His eyes are bright. Shiny. The usual guilt isn't settling in. His eyes are clear.

And for a minute, just a freaking minute, I let myself believe that he will stay. That he will flash his breathtaking smile that makes his eyes crinkle up. That he will touch my face and place a light kiss upon my lips, morning breath be damned.

I believe in vain.

His eyes cloud over with the familiar guilt and his seraphic face becomes agonized as reality sinks in. He looks away and lets out a large sigh. And then he runs his fingers through his hair, gets up and gathers his clothes. I don't look away as he gets dressed. I've seen all of him innumerable times. Why be coy now?

He doesn't wear his jacket, instead opting to carry it in his hands. His shirt is mostly unbuttoned .His tie is in his hand too. His pant is unzipped. His socks are stuffed into his pant pockets, his shoes are only half worn.

I stifle a laugh at his appearance. He looks like he is doing the proverbial walk of shame.

Which, according to him, he is.

I know better, though.

There are only so many times you can consider it the 'walk of shame' when it involves the same two parties.

As he is leaving, he spares me one backward glance. And what I see in that one glance astounds me.

His eyes are tormented, pained. His eyebrows are drawn together. His beautiful face is marred by a frown. He opens his mouth and… And nothing.

Involuntarily, my mouth opens. "Don't" I whisper. "Stay. Please."

It is the first time I have said anything. I am always silent as he leaves. Always.

I expect him to leave anyway as I observe him register my pleas. They are of no significance.

But something changes. There is a shift. His eyes flash. Emeralds set on fire.

His mouth set in a firm line, he walks towards me. His belongings are once again strewn across the floor. He is still stalking towards me.

This is _not_ part of the routine. It isn't part of the _fucking routine. _

My breath is coming in gasps. I'm panicking.

_I don't know what to do._

He stops in front of me. He hasn't blinked the entire time; neither have I. Our eyes are still locked in a silent battle. And then he speaks.

"Why?" he asks. I don't answer. How can I? I have nothing to say.

But apparently, he has plenty. He continues without waiting for a response.

"Why, Bella? Why do you want me to stay? All I ever do is hurt you. All I ever do is take from you. I never give. Ever. I come to you when I have nowhere else to go. I fuck you. And then I leave. And I leave you doubting yourself. I fucking make you doubt yourself. I make you want me. Make you believe that you want this fucked up mess. I'm keeping you from what's better for you. Every time you try to move on I drag you down again. I keep you caged in this motherfucking situation. I'm stopping you from living your life Bella. So tell me. Please fucking tell me. Why exactly should I stay Bella? Fucking tell me why!"

I try not to let his words hurt me. He's angry, I reason with myself. He is now downright yelling. He's never used that tone with me. In the 20 or so odd years that I have known him he has always treated me with respect. Treated me as if I am so fragile that even a single word uttered loudly will shatter me. But now gone are the respect and careful demeanor. He is panting with the force of his words. His eyes are wild, crazy; desperate. Desperate for me to answer him.

This is my only chance. I can either come clean about my love or shy away and hide. But this is goodbye. That I know for sure. I can see that he is only bringing all this up because he has no intention of returning.

Twenty years of friendship down the drain. Ten years of my love for him forgotten. He is ending this. He is ending _us_. Because he thinks I won't answer. No, he's sure of it. He expects me to stay quiet. Why? Because it will make our goodbye that much easier for him. He will escape scot-free.

That is something I will not let happen.

So I spill my guts. Seize the day. Carpe diem and all that shit.

My faint whisper of a voice carries out loud in the silent room-

"I want you to stay because I can't let you go. I can't fathom a life without you. I can't live without you. I just can't, okay? And I know I'm being pathetic and weak. But you know what? I don't care. I don't give a shit. Because I love you. I'm perpetually in love with you. Have been since a decade now.

"And I'm obsessed with you. With everything related to you. I used to stare at your photos when you were away at college. And I never washed my sheets for days after you would come just so I wouldn't lose your smell. And I have your football jersey. And your smiley boxers. And your blue socks. I have so much of your stuff. I was so ridiculously obsessed with you. Still am, to some extent. It was borderline stalkerish, you know.

"But you always speak in riddles. You're always so hot and cold. I try to keep up with you. I really do, Edward. But it's so confusing at times. And your words send me into this frenzy. But they keep me alive. They give me so much, Edward. That's just the way it's always been.

"Every single time you spend the night I'm so scared. Not of the nights, Edward. Those nights are what I live for. It's the morning after that I dread. The mornings terrify me. Every time I hope that you'll stay. That you'll stay in bed with me and kiss me good morning and make breakfast with me. But you always leave.

"And yeah, you take. You take a lot. But you also give, Edward. You give me so much. More than you realize. You take away the emptiness, Edward, you make me feel whole. You're my light. Don't you get that? I love you. Why is it so hard for you to accept that? Can't you just pretend to care about that for once? Can't you let go of your inhibitions? Why can't you just accept that I'm not fragile? That I'm not a little girl?

"You wont' hurt me because I know you. I know you and you know me. And we could be so great together. You possess me, Edward. Without even knowing it, you possess me. I'm yours. Always have been, and always will be. And I want you to be mine.

"So stay. Stay and tell me you love me. That you won't leave me. And just love me Edward. Just stay. Please."

I'm crying by the end. My tears are flowing down my cheeks and my body is shaking with my sobs. I'm sniffling and wiping my nose on the edge of the sheets. It sounds like ten people are throwing up simultaneously. It sounds weird.

He's just standing at the same spot the whole time. But his face is now apathetic. His eyes are cold. Gone is the passion that had previously consumed his eyes .And I'm left confused.

"You shouldn't love me. I'm no good for you. You know that Bella. You know how fucked up my life is. I know you feel obligated because you think you're in love with me. But it's not too late. You can still salvage what's left of your life. You can go and live Bella. You have to."

His voice is now broken too. And suddenly his arms are around me. His face is buried in my neck. His lips are pressed against my hair. And it all feels so wonderful... so right.

So I take charge. I grab his face and kiss him. I kiss him with all I've got. I pour every inch of my soul into it. I push my lips against his. I literally take his breath away. And my hands are tugging at his silky hair, grabbing at his face, tearing apart his shirt.

I half expect him to push me back; reject my advances. But I also hope that he won't run away. I hope that he will stay and worship me and love me. I take a chance and hope.

And, for the first time ever, it's not in vain.

His lips are moving just as passionately against mine. His hands are in my hair, on my face, holding me, gripping me too tight. So tight that I know they'll leave marks but all I can think of is way to be closer. Be gripped tighter.

We're all over the place. We're together. Joined, connected. And nothing is better than this. Nothing in the entire world can be better than this.

And for the first time, it feels as though he's making love to me. He's there and he's worshipping me. He's not going fast or slow. It's a pace in between. Stretched out at some places, frenzied at some others. We are both sloppy and clumsy. But it's filled with love. And that's what matters the most.

He's in me and all around me. And then he's crying out my name and I can feel him and see him reaching the heights of pleasure. Seeing him so raw and real sends me spiraling downwards into my own rush of ecstasy. All I can see is him and all I can feel is him. Nothing else registers. It's all him.

Later, we lie in bed- with him on the right side, as always- exhausted but satisfied. Mostly. The yearning is still there. It still lingers. I wonder if it will ever go away, while hoping with all my heart that it never will.

His arms are around me and we're facing each other. My eyes are tearing up again. His are too. And seeing this vulnerable side of him just makes my heart swell with love for him. One lone teardrop falls down his cheek. I catch it with the pad of my thumb. No words follow this silent declaration of our love. He doesn't undermine his feelings. Doesn't remark that he's such a pussy for shedding a tear. Because he's not. We both know that. And maybe he knows that that was exactly what sealed the deal. He felt it too. He felt the over powering, all consuming love too. And I don't think I've ever felt so satisfied. So content.

"I'm yours Bella. Always. Forever. You have to know that. Believe that. It's true Bella. I'm all yours."

I nod and kiss him just because I want to and I can.

"I know. I do believe you." I reply because I can see that he needs the verbal assurance too.

"And you're mine. All fucking mine. No one else Bella; only me. Please, baby. Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours." I reassure him. "You know that. You've always known that. It's only ever been you Edward. No one else. Only you."

We spend the whole day in bed. Alone, isolated.

And we both know we have a long way to go. But we will do it. Together.

We will support each other. Be each other's light. Solve all the problems together.

But for tonight, we just make love. And in each other's arms, we fall down together.

Fumbling towards ecstasy.

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_Oh you speak to me in riddles,_

_And you speak to me in rhymes;_

_My body aches to breathe your breath,_

_Your words keep me alive.

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Review please._


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